


Once Bored, Always Addicted

by TeamAlphaQ



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Addiction, Because I'm the author, Cigarettes, Emptiness, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Izaya being a little shit, Izaya's so cute when he's in complete emotional distress!, M/M, More smoke, Practically happy, Smoking, Sweet Shizuo, Tears, What even are good grades on finals?, but also rain, but not for long, death (probably), i'm a terrible human being, just smoke everywhere, minor depression, more of a mist really, school days, smoke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamAlphaQ/pseuds/TeamAlphaQ
Summary: A single package of cigarettes captivated them both. Izaya tried smoking because he was bored. Shizuo kept smoking because Izaya messed around and he ended up addicted. Actually, they both did.





	1. Boredom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_animu_fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_animu_fangirl/gifts).



> So this is just one of those things I had lying around. I decided that since I've started this collection for themed stories, I should start it off by posting one to it. It's centered around cigarettes (shocker) and is quite fluffy really.  
> For now...  
> Enjoy!

Bored, always so bored. Unless _he’s_ around.

Don’t get me wrong, I hate Shizuo more than anything else in the world but he’s the only one who can make me feel something. Even if it is burning hatred.

So I’ve stuck with him because it’s the only cure for my boredom, my chronic emptiness. I’m always trying to find other methods to cure that hollow dullness of boredom but they never last. He does.

When at rest, my mental state has always tended towards self-destruction. All the stupid things I do, they’re just flings to rid myself of the dreaded ring of boredom. It’s where the knives and the gambling ring came from.

And that package of cigarettes.

_Stupid human, what does he expect a high-schooler to do with cigarettes? The man had asked for information and I had given him that information. Like a good client, he’d paid for my services. Perfectly mundane, until he’d tossed me an unopened box of cigarettes. He’d claimed he’d quit and didn’t need them anymore. To me, it had felt like an invitation to do something stupid._

_Like, say, try one._

_I shake the carton before opening it skeptically and taking one white stick from the box. I’ve never smoked before and I hadn’t planned on doing it in the future. But, here I was with a potential cure for my boredom and I would never waste something like that._

_Besides, the ability to smoke might come in handy some day. With the work I’m getting into, the ability to blend is an important one._

_So in the end, I intrepidly purse my lips around the filter of one of the cigarettes and, with the small lighter I carry in my pocket, set the end ablaze. The moment the first shot of smoke hits my lungs I choke, coughing and retching for a minute straight before my body stops protesting. Glaring at the cigarette, I decide to take another drag, determined to not let an inanimate object get the better of me._

Feh, how I wish I’d just crushed the thing then and there. That moment of curiosity lead to what my life is now, after all. It led to trouble, regret, and pain, none of which are emotions a god should feel. I even _knew_ that at some level but nevertheless, I put the cigarette back between my lips once more and breathed in.

_This time it’s better, the smoke doesn’t burn as badly and the urge to cough is almost non-existent. The feeling of thick, black smoke filling my chest before being expelled shortly thereafter is an interesting one. Not one I’m particularly interested in getting used to but for the moment, it’s captivating._

_The experience soon becomes a dull background that I swiftly lose to the other sensations. I have absolutely no skill with smoking but I’ve watched humans aplenty slowly kill themselves with this particular vice to know the basics. Quickly, I catch on and my appearance becomes more natural. The cigarette no longer looks so out of place._

_With the feel and the physical appearance already becoming a moot point, my overactive mind starts to analyze the flavor. It’s primarily a smooth blend of bitter smoke, layered with something spicy and a dash of sweetness that ties it all together well._

_It doesn't sit right on my tongue._

_It’s not bad per say, it just feels like it’s missing something. Mulling it over I start to pick up on the hollowness of the taste and the way it feeds into my own emptiness while at the same time pulling my mind. The flavor lacks something but I can’t seem to put my finger on it._

_I realize the stick has burnt down to the filter and quickly drop it to the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of my shoe. Looking down at the package, I almost toss it away. I’d tried it, accepted that it wasn’t my thing and now could throw the rest away without a second thought, but I don’t._

_Instead, I light another._

_Because I’ve got to know what that missing component is. The smoking isn’t unpleasant and it’s not like I have to fear addiction, the experience wasn’t that special. I just want to know what it is that the flavor is lacking._

_Curiosity, for the moment, will distract me from my boredom._

But, we all know what happened to the curious cat, don’t we?

He was killed.

So maybe that’s why I waited on the roof of Raira Academy after lunch was over, letting the bell signaling the beginning of class ring without moving an inch. I just had to indulge my curiosity. Smoking on the roof of the school was a poor choice, I’ll admit, but I was the reckless type. I still am, I’m just better at it now.

_The sky is clear and surreal. The world of my precious humans races along outside the school's gates while at the same time crawling by. It’s just begging to be observed. I concede it this small favor as the smoke trails from the end of my cigarette._

_My third, and I’m determined to make it my last. I don’t think smoking is part of the impression I want to leave on people so I’ll leave it as just a passing whim and move on after today. This is my last chance to peel away at the thing I’m craving from the cigarette that isn’t there._

_Everything feels so peaceful and_ boring.

But the world was kind to me that day and the peace didn’t last long. It would have been terrible if it had. I hate peace and quiet.

_Taking a deep breath I drag the second-hand smoke back into my lungs. It reminds me of something. It’s heavy yet at the same time, it excites my blood. As I let it seep into me the sensation clicks and I can’t help but smirk mildly. It reminds me of Shizuo. Of him chasing me. That out of breath yet high off the thrill and unstoppable feeling I’ve always loved._

_Speaking of Shizuo, I hadn’t seen him since the start of the week. No wonder why I’m feeling so empty and_ bored _. I sigh. Bored bored boredboredbored. I need something to do. The cigarette is only frustrating my intellect yet I don’t get rid of it because the haze it’s spreading over the scene of my mind is breaking up the monotony._

_So bored…_

_“What the hell are you doing here?”_

I must say, Shizuo always did have the best possible timing imaginable.

_The low growl shakes some of the daze from my mind. I’m in the mood for a good game and if Shizuo is happy to oblige, why should I turn him down? There’s a thump as he jumps from his raised section of the roof to mine. I blow out another stream of smoke, hoping the shallow breeze carries it his way._

_Because what else would he be annoyed at?_

Tch-ing _in mild irritation at having been interrupted, I turn and disappointedly say, “Shizu-chan, you don’t own this building, nor do you hold any sort of claim on this roof.” Slowly, I turn to face him, leaving the cigarette hanging between my lips lazily, just to annoy him. Taking a drag I add, “I’m allowed to be here.”_

_I can see the anger in his golden eyes. He’s never even tried to hide it. I’m half surprised that he doesn’t rush me right then and there in an attempt to push me off the roof but I attribute it to the smoke weaving in the air between us. No doubt his keenly tuned senses are being hit much more powerfully than mine are._

_But I can tell he wants to say something because a moment later he snaps, “You’re underage, why the hell are you smoking.”_

_His words are so naive I want to laugh. This is just the sort of distraction I crave. Only Shizuo’s stupidity can throw me out of my perpetual funk. My eyes light up and a smirk curls over my lips as I carelessly tease, “Shizu-chan, don’t tell me you actually care!”_

_He doesn’t like that, he never does. My sarcasm always infuriates him and I know it. Taking a drag from the cigarette still perched between my lips I pull it out and play with it between my fingers. His eyes are deadly and watch my every move._

_Giggling, smoke leaking out from my mouth, I prod, “Are you afraid I’ll drop dead from lung cancer?”_

_He takes a threatening step forward. “Like hell I am!” His beastly act is amazingly refreshing. “It’s fucking up the air and I was_ trying _to relax. Put it out!” His anger amuses me immensely._

_Smirking, I flippantly respond, “I don’t feel like it.” Just because I can, I drag in a lungful of nicotine-laced smoke and breath it out in one big cloud. Shizuo breathes it in, unfazed by my actions. Other than the fact that he’s still pulsing with anger, his expression doesn’t change._

For some reason, I didn’t even contemplate why he hadn’t attacked me yet. I’m an informant, now at least, and that kind of thing is vital for me to notice. Yet in that moment, I didn’t even bother stopping to think. I just kept pushing him.

_As I watch him, grinning, something strange happens. Shizuo’s pupils dilate and he inhales deeply as if trying to capture the smell of my cigarette. He seems enthralled by it and I have no idea why._

_Then it hits me, Shizuo likes the smoke from the cigarette._

_And I know that there is nothing that could stop me from exploiting that fact as much as I can. Something about the situation is weakening Shizuo’s defenses and there is nothing I would love better than to push him to see how far he would go._

He’s the grandest game of all.

 _“Addicting, ne?” I ask, looking at him through half lidded eyes, daring him to make a move. “And here I thought you didn’t like it.”_ _At my words, the off-balance beast’s cheeks darken and I have to restrain a gleeful laugh from spilling over._

_“I thought you didn’t smoke!” He blusters, looking confused and dizzy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him flounder like this. Seemingly robbed of his ability to hurt me, even if only temporarily, Shizuo looks lost. Pathetic, even while still glowing with rage._

_I’m never going to let him hear the end of this._

_Taking a thoughtful drag of the cigarette, I casually admit, “Just started, actually. Not really my thing, ne?” I turn a lazy smirk in Shizuo’s direction and am rewarded with a glare. It’s almost as if he’s threatening me, or begging me, not to take advantage of the weakness I suspect he’s just now noticing he has._ Stupid Shizu-chan, _I think reproachfully._ It’s just my _nature._

_Loving this new side of Shizuo I’ve revealed, I wave my cigarette in his direction and mockingly ask, “What, do you want to try?” His scowl deepens. “You’d look so scary if you smoked Shizu-chan,” I say matter o’ factly, giving him a serious look. “Right out of a Shonen manga.” I chuckle at my own joke._

_Shizuo doesn’t even move._

_So I move, slowly walking towards him._

_“What the fuck are you talking about?” It’s a snarl but I’m not the least bit frightened by it. I just get closer and closer until he finally jerks free from whatever spell I’d had on him and grips my arm, shoving me back but not letting go. I wonder briefly if he’s going to throw me off the roof at last, but dismiss the notion almost as quickly._

_No, he’s right in the palm of my hand._ How far will he let me go? _I wonder._

 _“But you like it, right Shizu-chan?” I taunt. On a whim, I take a drag and blow the spicy smoke right into Shizuo’s face because I know it’s what’s making him act strangely. His grip on my arm, and no doubt reality, loosens and I grin. Common sense tells me it’s probably time to back off and leave but all I want to do is push farther. If this is how he reacts to the smoke, I can’t help but want to see what happens if he_ tastes _it._

_“No, I d-” He starts to snap but I cut him off as I press my lips to his. Taking advantage of his shock by slipping my tongue into his open mouth, I revel in how completely I know I’m breaking my monster. Then he starts to kiss back and suddenly I’m the one who’s thrown off balance as I realize what the taste of the cigarette was missing._

_Shizuo completes it and I know in that instant that I’ll never be able to get enough._

And I never tasted it again. Funny how the world, who’s so kind one second, can be so cruel the next. Ever since that day, no matter how much I fight him and hurt him and hate him, I’m never satisfied. It’s never enough.

_I dart back, swiping my tongue across my lips to catch that smoky, Shizuo-filled flavor that I’m never going to taste again. The look on Shizuo’s face fills me with a sort of malignant pride. The knowledge that, even if Shizuo had managed to catch me off guard, I’d done far worse to him was infinitely comforting._

_Leveling my breathing, I hiss gleefully, “See Shizu-chan, I knew you liked it.” Remembering the mostly full package I still carry, I impulsively take it out._ If I’m not going to use them _, I think._ Why not? _Apparently, I happen to like my Shizuos flavored with cigarettes._

_Sighing, perhaps a touch dramatically, I say, “Ah, but alas, it’s not for me.” Giving Shizuo a calculated look through narrowed eyes, I add, “I don’t feel like ruining my lungs for something I don’t even like.”_

_Before I can second guess this passing whim, I toss the box at Shizuo. He catches it deftly, still with a dazed look on his face._

_Deciding enough is enough, I wave casually. “See you around, Shizu-chan.” I slip past him and walk towards the stairs up to the roof, smirking as I go._

_Because I had fun, and I’m curious to see what he’ll do._

Perhaps he remembers it too. After all, he’s still smoking. I’m still not sure why I did what I did, I do know that I’ve always regretted it. The hollowness got worse because of my blunder.

And the only one who seemed to be able to fill it was someone I hated.

Anything to get rid of my boredom, ne?


	2. Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never should have challenged him, never should have taken that first drag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? 
> 
> Eh, why not. This time, from Shizuo's perspective. Should be fun.
> 
> Pretty sure I'm going to have to change the rating on this story at some point...
> 
> Enjoy!

Addicted. Fucking addicted to _him._

I hate Izaya, I hate everything about that shitty flea. I can’t stand to breathe the same air as him. He’s an infection that worms his way into every inch of everything and pollutes it.

He polluted me, and, even though I hate to admit it, I couldn’t get enough. I _crave_ to taste that addicting flavor again.

But I fucking hate the flea.

It started in high-school, this unhealthy craving. Started, in fact, on a normal day.

_The sky is clear, and from where I lie on the roof, a slight breeze can be felt. Why am I on the roof? Because the air isn’t stale up here, and any hint of Izaya is whisked away before I can sense it._

_It’s peaceful._

But on that particular day, the universe decided to fuck with me, because apparently, a little peace and quiet were just _too_ much to ask. So I guess that’s why the damn smoke had to come _my_ way instead of leaving me be.

_The smell of a lit cigarette brings me up at once, it’s musk reminding me of the streets of Ikebukuro. A casual sniff confirms that, yes indeed, someone’s smoking. I’m used to being alone up here, and maybe I’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the recurring silence. This intrusion into that calm irritates me._

_I don’t really want to bother with caring about whoever I’m sharing the roof with. It’s not like this is my territory, I’m not the animal a certain shitty louse makes me out to be. Really, ignoring whoever it is would be the smartest course of action, even if I’m annoyed. That’s what I want to do._

_But of course,_ something _makes me go and see who the hell is smoking on the roof of my school, ruining my day with the reek of tobacco like an asshole._

_Moments later, when the second stench hits me, a similar something makes me stop and grind my teeth together. Izaya’s standing below me looking out into the blue sky that I had been so enjoying up until then. I should have known it would be him, my life has gotten predictable where he’s involved._

Because of course, it was _always_ the damn flea. And even when I should have been wondering why Izaya wasn’t paying more attention to his surroundings, all I could wonder was why the fuck he was smoking? We were underage -not that I cared -and it wasn’t like him. What really got to me was the fact that he was in what I had deemed my space.

So like an idiot, I started a fight.

_“What the hell are you doing here?” I growl at the raven, stepping down off the raised portion of the roof I’m on so I’m level with him. It makes it easier to throw Izaya off the roof that way. Another wave of smoke hits me, stinging as it gets in my eyes._

_“Tch, Shizu-chan,” Izaya chides, turning around to display the cigarette hanging from between his lips, casually pulling nicotine into his lungs like he’s smoked all his life. “You don’t own this building, nor do you hold any sort of claim on this roof. I’m allowed to be here.”_

_God, I want to kill him! The simmering rage is so familiar, so easy to give into, that I almost slip into that frame of mind without a second thought. But I’m curious, curious as to why he’s smoking here in the first place since this is the first time I’ve seen him here at this time of the day and I’ve never seen the damn flea with a cigarette before._

_My mouth says the first thing that comes to my tongue. “You’re underage,” I snarl, wincing internally at how stupid the words sound when said aloud. “Why the hell are you smoking?”_

Looking back at it, once those words came out of my mouth, I had already lost. Once Izaya gets that teasing smirk in his red eyes, he’s in control.

_“Shizu-chan, don’t tell me you actually care!” He gasps mockingly, red eyes gleaming as he plucks the cigarette from his lips and twirls it between his fingers. As smoke leaks from the corners of his mouth, he giggles and asks, “Are you afraid I’ll drop dead from lung cancer?”_

_“Like hell I am!” I retort, taking a step forward, even though I don’t know what I’m going to do if I reach him. This situation should be simple but something’s off. What my instincts are telling me doesn’t make sense. “It’s fucking up the air and I was trying to relax. Put it out!” I demand._

Probably, if I had attacked him then, none of this would have happened, but what did I know? He was pissing me off and I wanted him to stop, but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to throw him off of the roof. Having a conversation hadn’t been my idea, it had just happened.

 _“I don’t feel like it._ ” _Izaya takes another drag from the cigarette and expels all the smoke out in one big cloud. The breeze carries it towards me, the scent teasing me almost as much as the louse in front of me is. Truthfully, the smell isn’t unpleasant, just heavy. There where I don’t expect it._

_With Izaya’s musk weaving in with it, the tobacco infused air takes on an entirely different nature. It’s even heavier, more like breathing in water than air. There’s a sweet undertone to the sharpness of the cigarette that confuses me, drawing me into it._

_And I don’t even notice until it’s too late that I’m inhaling deeper, trying to catch more of those toxic fumes. Of course, Izaya notices, he sees everything, the shitty flea, and he comments because I’m pretty sure he can’t help himself. “Addicting, ne?” he teases, lowering his eyelids halfway like he’s beckoning me forward. “And here I thought you didn’t like it.”_

_My cheeks flare with heat and Izaya’s eyes light up with malignant glee at the sight. “I thought you didn’t smoke!” I gruffly retort, suddenly wondering if it’s too late to just kill him. The goddamn smell is affecting me, making me feel dizzy and just a little off-kilter, like the world is tilting towards the flea. It’s the smoke, it must be the smoke. The person before me could never make me feel anything but hatred after all._

_“Just started, actually.” He admits, sucking on the filter thoughtfully. “Not really my thing, ne?” He smirks in my direction and I manage a glare, silently daring him to say or do_ anything _to embarrass me in any way while I’m weak. Izaya’s never been able to throw me for a loop like this before. I try to communicate to him without words that if he so much as breathes a word of this to anyone, I will kill him._

Well, that was just another mistake because Izaya _always_ liked a challenge and of course he was going to tease me. Daring him not to just made it worse. I still blame the smell of smoke mixed with Izaya drifting over everything. Now, yet another thing I’m addicted to.

_“What, do you want to try?” Izaya teasingly waves the cigarette in my direction and I scowl. “You’d look so scary if you smoked Shizu-chan, right out of a Shonen manga.” He laughs at the joke like someone who knows they’re the only one who finds it funny. I certainly don’t laugh. I’m too busy feeling intoxicated by the smoke and by Izaya’s teasing looks._

_For once, the hatred coursing through my veins doesn’t help me. Everything about the situation makes me want to squash Izaya like the bug he is, but I can’t. I can’t even will myself to move._

_“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growl, hoping Izaya won’t come any closer with that damn cigarette and that fucking smile. But he does, because he hates me as much as I hate him and loves to make my life hell. Too close, too close. My arms finally react and I grab his left arm in a vice like grip, pushing him back but not pushing him away entirely._

And yet another mistake. I should have pushed him away, let go and left, but I fucked that simple plan up too. Not that I _had_ a plan to fuck up at the time, but still.

 _“But you like it, right Shizu-chan?” Izaya pulls smoke into his lungs and blows out the hot, bitter stream of nicotine directly into my face. As I inhale the secondhand smoke, I can feel the grip I have on his arm loosening. The fucking flea just grins because he_ knows _what he’s doing and he_ knows _I hate it and he_ loves _that I can’t do anything to stop him._

_The stinging, heavy, intoxicating scent invades every inch of me, polluting me._

_“No, I d-” I start to snap, ready to get out of there before something happens that I’ll regret later. Of course, Izaya is set on making me regret this moment and nothing I can do will stop him. His delight at bringing me down to such a pathetic state is almost tangible. Even stronger though is his desire to break me. I can see it, feel it,_ smell it _. Then I can taste it as Izaya presses his mouth against my still-open lips and destroys whatever sanity I have left with just a flick of his tongue._

_Addicted, I’m instantly addicted. Bitter tobacco, smoky-soft lips and a spicy tongue tangling with mine. I have no fucking clue what the hell is going on, but as the taste of Izaya seasoned with cigarettes floods my senses and drowns me in the single most addicting flavor in the world I realize I don’t care._

And believe me, he fucking knew what he was doing.

 _Izaya darts back, licking his lips as if to catch the lingering taste of me. He looks far too fucking proud of himself at the shambling state he’s left me in. “See Shizu-chan,_ ” _he hisses in delight. “I knew you liked it.” Pulling a turquoise blue cigarette carton out of his pocket, he sighs and adds, “Ah, but alas, it’s not for me. I don’t feel like ruining my lungs for something I don’t even like.”_

_He tosses the package my way and I catch it._

_“See you around, Shizu-chan.”_

_And then it’s like nothing ever happened. He vanishes and reality snaps back into place completely, other than the fact I can’t seem to rid myself of that intoxicating flavor that’s coating my mind._ Fucking flea, what the hell is he trying to pull _, I think as I wipe my mouth with the back of my jacket._

_The hand that holds the fucking cigarettes is shaking._

_Rage boils up and over and with a yell of fury, I almost throw the cigarettes over the edge of the roof. But then I stop and put them in my pocket before slumping to the ground, exhausted._

And after that normal day that turned out so very wrong, I was addicted for life. I hated him, hated everything about Izaya, but that single taste left me craving him forever. So is it any real surprise that I started smoking?

It only took a week before I gave into the desire. I figured that if the taste was anything like Izaya, it would be worth it.

_I stare at the cigarette carton hard. I’m going to throw it away this time. If I just get rid of it hopefully the temptation to try one with vanish with them. The fight I had with Izaya earlier scampers through my thoughts and I grind my teeth together. Every time I see him, without fail, I think of that moment on the roof._

_And I want to kill him a little more._

_But I also want to taste_ him _again. I can’t help but wonder if the cigarettes will make that desire go away because it seriously gets in the way of just killing him. I’m already addicted to the taste, what do I really have to lose?_

 _But it_ won’t _be the same. Fuck, I really don’t have an easy way out of this one._

_Pulling a cigarette from the package, I roll it between my fingers and glare at it like it’s going to do something. It doesn’t, obviously. The paper crinkles beneath my fingers and a faint yet familiar smell hits me._

_The tension in my limbs unknots itself slowly, leaking out of my pores as the smell replaces it. Hands moving without my say so, I reach into my pocket for the lighter I’d picked up and the flame leaps to life. I’m pretty sure it’s mocking me, just like the shitty flea. Mocking me for being so weak._

Well, I _was_ being fucking weak, giving into Izaya like that. Every time he sees me smoking I’m pretty sure he’s thinking about that day on the roof.  About how he fucking won.

 _Lighting the end, I stare at the faint flame as it blows out, leaving the tip of the cigarette smoldering and red. Cherry red like a dangerous sweet.  The smell is only getting stronger, invading me like the idea of Izaya. I can practically_ hear _him cackling._

_But do I have a choice?_

_If I do, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to make it._

_Slowly, I bring the filter to my lips and inhale._

_Instantly I’m hacking and coughing as smoke_ burns _my lungs and throat, making me wonder if I might actually be dying. Glaring at the cigarette once I get my breath back, I almost toss it. How Izaya had managed to smoke one of these like he was a natural was beyond me._

_But the smoke smells like that day, and the leftover taste reminds me of Izaya’s sharp, biting, and talented tongue._

_And then I’m taking another drag._

_It’s not the same, it’s missing something. It’s missing the one thing that I most wanted to capture again. Izaya, seasoned with cigarette smoke. I growl at the thought of the louse, wishing he was there so I could wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze till I never had to deal with him again._

_Unfortunately, there’s probably an equal chance of me kissing him for a second time._

_So I just take another deep drag and lean against the wall, wishing Izaya would drop off the face of the earth so I wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. Anything so I wouldn’t have to admit to myself that I was addicted._

_Addicted to my enemy._

Of course, that never happened, I never stopped facing him. He was always there, always pushing, always scheming, always smirking with that fucking look in his eyes like he’s imagining hurting me.

And here I am, unable to get away. Unable to quit fighting. Unable to quit _him._

Smoking and Izaya.

He got me addicted to both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, if you think it's not bittersweet, wait till you see the next chapter. 
> 
> Man, I am evil.


	3. Emptiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year is too long.  
> A year is forgetting to feel.  
> A year, and now it's over.  
> Hopefully, for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm rather attached to this story at this point. I mean, sure it's not going to be the next great novel but it's rather lovely nonetheless. 
> 
> But it's pretty angsty at this point so you've been warned.
> 
> Also, spoiler alert-

Odd, how quickly the cold sneaks up on a person. Of course, _cold_ is only the absence of heat. In reality, it doesn’t exist. How then does it grip me so tightly? If it has no substance, no grounding in reality it shouldn’t be able to affect me so much.

Ah, but it does.

And after a year of being out in the cold, after letting the heat be drawn out of one’s life, all one starts to feel is numb.

It was unhealthy, ne? Letting someone hurt me because they filled the aching chasm in my chest? But running away didn’t fix things either, it made them worse. Sadly, running away is all I’ve ever done and sometimes, I wonder if it’s all I’ll ever be good at.

So maybe that’s why I’m standing out here, in the rain, letting the chill water soak through my black coat and numb me to the bone. My lips are blue, I can’t feel most of my extremities, yet here I stand, unwilling to move because I don’t remember how to make my muscles work. My tendons are frozen and my cords have been cut. I’m stuck in time, letting the rain slowly smother me.

I don’t remember how I got here in the first place but I’m aware I won’t be leaving anytime soon.

There are few people outside right now, I’m almost entirely alone. No one would dare bother me right now. To the casual observer, I must look insane. Drenched from head to toe and just standing here, because I can’t bring myself to do anything else. The hollow emptiness inside of me has been gnawing away at my resolve for a year now. Like a moth to a flame, it had brought me here straight back to my vice, my game, my downfall.

Right back to the monster’s den.

Shizuo always did have a way of drawing me in, of filling the cracks in my chest that always seemed to be there, where they could let heat out, leaving me with only its absence. He’s like a drug, addicting as those cursed cigarettes he always smokes. It doesn’t matter that this last year has been one long apathetic nightmare I’ve been desperate to escape from, I never should have ventured all the way out to Ikebukuro again.

He’ll probably kill me.

At this point, I might let him. It’d be easier than continuing to drag myself through each boring day without the hope of a moment of excitement in sight. Among all the things that kill my humans, and there are many, boredom is the deadliest. Especially for a veritable god like me.

I think I came here because of business. I think there are several important papers in my pocket that are no doubt ruined beyond any hope of legibility. I think I had a purpose that overrode my deep set aversion to ever returning to this district.

Somehow, it all just drained away once I got here.

The pavement below me holds a thin coating of rainwater, the drizzle above not enough to cause anything more than little rivulets running down the street. It’s plenty for me, perfect for permeating my clothing and leaving me cold.

_It really has been a year since I’ve seen him, hasn’t it?_ The thought hurts me in a roundabout way, almost like it hollows me out until I collapse in on myself. Of course, Shizuo probably prefers it that way, I was only ever a nuisance, one he finally got rid of, he doesn’t miss me. I don’t miss him, not really. After all, I despised him.

I still despise him.

Summoning up my willpower, I try to move but the apathy that has consumed me over this last year keeps me still. Just standing here, letting the rain soak me, not enough to wash away the thoughts that keep me up at night, too much to ignore and just move on. I’m trapped in this storm like a leaf being tossed down a river, like a mouse caught in the jaws of a cat.

Like a god finally lured onto the hunting grounds of a monster.

Funny that the only creature I hate is the very thing that colors my cursed life of eternal boredom. Without Shizuo, everything’s just dull. Gray and blue, bleached and shadowed. _Boring, so so boring._

He drove me out, he was the one who tried to kill me that night, he would have if he hadn’t been stopped. Even then I almost died, almost gave up. But I’m not that lucky. The image of him, standing above me, ready and willing to crush the life out of me remains in my mind. Burned there like the monster had taken one of those cursed cigarettes to my brain and seared himself into my memory.

Funny that he still smokes at all, isn’t it. Clinging to a vice I gave him in the first place is ironic, considering how much he claims to hate me. I suppose I can’t complain though, Shizuo always did make it ridiculously easy to worm my way into his life and wreak havoc.

Always stuck playing one continuous game, the only game that never ceased to amuse me, the only thing I could do to make my life feel complete.

So maybe that’s why I’m here. Because I didn’t quit the game quite as neatly as I thought I had. Even though I no longer have the will to move, I want to feel that rush that only Shizuo can bring once more. Even if it’s only one last time.

Because the root of my obsession is boredom and only Shizuo makes the hole in my chest go away.

Alas, I’d be a fool to suppose he won’t kill me this time. Just like last time.

Although it’s hardly evening, the streets are dim and cloudy. What little isn’t obscured by rain is filled with steamy fog. The gloom makes each individual passing me look like lone wanderers, traveling through the mists of the afterlife. Stuck forever in dreary purgatory. I wonder what my humans are thinking, what has brought them out into this soft rain and where they’re going to escape it. The question only holds my interest for a few fleeting seconds before the thoughts are whisked away.

One figure, in particular, draws my focus instantly as he steps out of the rain and slowly walks towards me. The first thing I see is the smoke, smothered by persistent downfall, then the cigarette becomes clear, followed by the large, calloused hand holding it. Next, I can see the damp black vest of a bartender’s uniform, then the wild strands of dyed blond hair that the rain hasn’t yet managed to tame. His fiery eyes are fixed on the road ahead of him but I can sense their presence regardless.

My breath catches and I sway on my feet as something like warmth trickles up through the soles of my shoes and slowly thaws the ice that has solidified inside me over the last year. Experimentally I flex my fingers, enthralled by the feeling they have regained. For some reason, Shizuo hasn’t noticed me yet, perhaps the rain has dampened his senses. What seems more likely is that he no longer cares about what I do or where I go. The idea hurts, though I can’t explain why.

Of course, I’d like to think the cigarette between his lips says otherwise. I can’t be the only one who remembers that afternoon on that roof.

As he nears, the almost entirely forgotten rush of adrenaline floods my system and suddenly, I’m granted complete control of my body once more. Just in time to turn towards him as his path crosses mine, just in time for him to notice my presence.

For one long moment, Shizuo and I do nothing but stare at each other. Unexpectedly, a thrill of fear courses through me as I see the glimmer of _something_ in his glowing, golden eyes. _He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?_

This close, I can smell his cigarette, although, I’ve come to identify it as a scent wholly specific to Shizuo. Everything about the monster is infused with tobacco and heavy smoke. The smell is a heady one that puts me on edge. For the first time in a year, I feel like a shadow of the person I once was.

Face to face with my beast, I feel like Izaya Orihara again. It’s a wonderful feeling.

“Shizu-chan,” I hiss, and a familiar smirk twitches as it tries to come to life on my face. “Funny seeing you here.” It _is_ funny. I’ve never put much stock in fate but this can’t be the result of coincidence alone. A series of disconnected events that led me to this moment, right back to Shizuo.

The monster doesn’t growl, his face doesn’t twist in rage. He just stands there, wet, staring at me like I’m an apparition that will vanish if he moves too quickly. Quietly, as though trying to decide if I’m real, Shizuo mutters, “Izaya.” then after a long moment of silence, “What are you doing in Ikebukuro?”

“Maybe I’m here because I want to be Shizu-chan,” I suggest, my mouth twisting into a sneer, even though my chest feels tight. It must be the smoke coming from Shizuo’s cigarette. I have half a mind to pluck it from his mouth, just to piss him off, but I don’t. All I do is smirk at the beast like I haven’t been gone a year and seeing him again doesn’t set me on every edge I’ve ever had.

“I thought you were never coming back.” I can’t tell if his words are a statement or a thinly veiled threat. Considering our history, I must assume it’s the latter and I respond accordingly.

“What a shame then that I came to ruin your wonderful life without me,” I simper, frowning dramatically. “I hope you enjoyed your year of peace.” _I’m sure you’ll have more soon._

“Flea…” Only a fool would miss the warning in Shizuo’s voice and I actively try not to be one of those, even though I end up one often enough when the beast is involved. Already I’m ready to move, ready to run but I can’t help but make one last parting comment. Having the last laugh is a habit ingrained into my nature so deeply that even the beast can’t rip it from me.

Reaching up, I give in to my dangerous impulses and pluck the cigarette from Shizuo’s mouth. With a raised eyebrow I roll the smoldering stick between my fingers before pursing my lips around the filter Shizuo just had his teeth clenched around. As if I’d done it a million times before, I drag in a lungful of nicotine. It burns going down yet the dumbfounded look on Shizuo’s face is priceless and absolutely worth it.

Grinning, I release the smoke into Shizuo's direction before flicking the remaining cigarette away. “Addicted as ever, ne Shizu-chan?” Then, I turn around and run.

Instantly, I’m caving.

This chase isn’t like any of our old games. Neither of us speaks a word as we tear through the water-soaked streets of Ikebukuro, both of our minds focused on only one thing. Even though I’m not running my mouth like I always would before, the very action of fleeing from Shizuo brings me back to life. Rain slaps my face, stinging as it hits cold flesh yet it proves beyond a shadow of a doubt I’m able to feel again. Strange that I couldn’t see how much I wanted this before.

Shizuo doesn’t make any of the beastly sounds I’d always associated with our fights, he just runs, fast, straight, eyes fixed resolutely on me. In return, I don’t bother with any of the many tricks I have up my sleeves. All I do is propel myself forward, just fast enough to keep out of the monster’s grasp.

If anyone sees us running through the rain, I’m sure they’d think nothing of it. After all, aren’t all our fights characterized by damaged property and biting insults, punctuated by Shizuo’s roars and layered with the intoxicating smell of cigarette smoke? This is something the likes of which my dear humans have never seen before.

My feet pound the pavement, each step sending shocks through my legs. Without the constant abuse these chases gave me, my body is left to protest my unfamiliar actions, screaming at me to stop and breathe. But behind me is Shizuo and stopping would probably mean certain death.

Ah, but what I’m doing now is only prolonging the inevitable, ne? Because I already know how this is going to end. One last fight before I let the beast win.

A final cure to my boredom.

It’s not that I want to die, it’s simply that I have nothing more interesting to do. Better to die like this than go back to being bored. If Shizuo is truly the only cure then let this satisfy me enough to make my inevitable demise at his hands bearable. I think he knows the end of this game too, that’s why he hasn’t thrown anything at me or shouted threats my way. Even a dumb animal can sense when their prey is cornered.

But maybe I’ll win because I’m _allowing_ Shizuo to finally be rid of me.

And he’ll let me be rid of my unhealthy obsession.

Because being obsessed with the person I despise is absolutely bad for me, no matter which way I spin it. Ever since we met, ever since that day on the roof, ever since I crawled away from that last fight bleeding, wishing my boredom had some other fix, a different solution. One that didn’t leave me bleeding and wanting more. Ever since then, Shizuo has always been the recurring variable. The disruption in my life. The cure.

So to escape my own thoughts I push myself harder, channeling every bit of adrenaline I possess into these last moments. As expected Shizuo matches my pace, his own thundering footfalls closing in on me.

Into an alley I dart, no sense letting my precious humans witness what are sure to be my final moments. Only one soul will see it and he isn’t even human. Plus, it’s a chance to be rid of the cold drizzle. Unfortunately, the rain still manages to find its way in between the buildings so I duck into a smaller alley, then another, aimless in my choices. Now, all I can here is my own heart and Shizuo closing in for the kill.

In these final minutes, I’ve never been farther from empty. Without even speaking a word, Shizuo has managed to fill up the gaping holes in my insides with warmth, burning fire that races through my veins, replacing blood with emotion. Content is what I feel as I finally hit a dead end, tucked in the shadows of three old walls. Perfectly content to just sit back and accept my end.

The feeling is tainted though, tainted with a single what if that I dare not voice.

Turning, I wait.

Shizuo doesn’t disappoint me. He rounds the corner and stops at the mouth of the alley, taking a second to just watch me. Neither of us moves for a long moment. Spurts of rain still dampen our chosen location but for the most part its dry, if still misty and foggy, warmth from the buildings surrounding the alley steaming up the air. All I can see of my old enemy is a dark silhouette, looming, imposing.

Slowly, Shizuo reaches into his pocket and withdraws something. A few clicks of his lighter later, it becomes apparent it’s a cigarette. The mildly damp paper takes a moment to catch but when it does, it glows hot and red. Even from where I stand, I can smell the spicy, heady nicotine-laced smoke. It contrasts with the water vapor in the air and spirals through it lazily.

Seeing no point in even pretending to put up a fight, I lean against the wall at my back and chuckle, wondering despite myself why the laugh sounds so bitter. “It’s been a while,” I comment, peering at the beast through carmine eyes, pulling off my hood so I can see him better. “Ne, Shizu-chan?”

Plucking the cigarette from between his lips, Shizuo exhales on a laugh of his own. “Yeah, it has been a while Izaya.” Taking several steps forward till I can clearly see him through the gloom, the ex-bartender furrows his brows and mutters, “This is where I’m supposed to kill you, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I respond silkily, staring at Shizuo almost regretfully. _I want you, but I despise you. I crave you, but I hate you. I need you like you need those cigarettes. Kill me, free me from the curse only you can cure._ “I suppose it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Izaya probably dies in the next chapter, but that's neither here nor there.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ...  
> Heh heh... I'm soulless.


	4. Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twitching, aching, tired.  
> Too far away, too long without a fix.  
> All Shizuo wants is relief.  
> But all Izaya wants is to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I lied (again)
> 
> You'll figure out why soon ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

“You’re smoking more than you used to,” Tom, my boss, observes as he steps out of the building he’d just been inside of.

“I am?” Taking my eyes off the irritating drizzle that’s graying the skies of Ikebukuro, I glare at my cigarette, which hangs between my fingers, before glancing back at Tom. He shrugs as he joins me, sighing as he too observes the rain.

“You used to go through about three packs a week,” he says, still somewhat distracted by the unpleasant sight before us. “You’re up to six now.” It seems like an offhanded comment, but it still makes me grunt under my breath in acknowledgment. He has a point, of course, I have been smoking more. It’s an unfortunate side effect of the past year that I haven’t been able to shake.

“I guess,” is my only response. The taste of the nicotine rolls over my tongue, always with that buzzing dullness that makes me take another drag. Complying, I lift the cigarette to my lips and suck on it, eyes still fixed on the downpour. Why anyone would be out in this, I have no idea.

The familiar gnawing irritation claws at the back of my head as I blow out a stream of smoke. _I’m so sick of this shit._

“You’ve been pretty stressed this year,” Tom continues and I twitch at the words, familiar irritation rising in my stomach. He’s right, I have been, but it’s not exactly something I want to think about. Mind rebelling, I take another drag before realizing my cigarette is basically done for. Ash trickles off the end pathetically.

When I don’t respond, Tom glances at me and tilts his head. “Didn’t that info broker vanish a year ago?” Whatever’s left of my cigarette crumbles between my fingers. _Izaya._ “You really laid into him, didn’t you?” A year, gone, driven out by me.

I don’t want to react, those words shouldn’t affect me a year after the fact, yet my mouth opens anyway and I growl, “This has nothing to do with that piece of shit.” I can’t help but bristle, Tom’s words stick a hot needle into my brain and instantly I’m needing another cigarette. Craving it with a wild intensity that makes the headache behind my eyes flare up once more.

No, I’m craving something else. Furious with myself, I close my mind tightly against those persistent thoughts. _Calm, I need to fucking calm down._

“Sorry.” Tom can see the way my jaw tenses, see my hand clench till the knuckles whiten. “I’m prying, it’s none of my business, forget I asked.” His eyes flick back to the dreary rain, the one-sided conversation, forgotten. Almost resentful, I paw at my pockets and fish out a fresh stick. Smoothly lighting up, I try to bring that flash of emotions under control.

He’s right, of course. He usually is when it comes to my mental state. It all revolves around Izaya, it all ends with me fucking it up in the name of quitting it. Quitting him.

Rolling his shoulders, Tom mutters, “Well, I was waiting to see if the rain would let up but it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon.” He looks at me and gives a what-can-you-do kind of shrug. “We’ll finish today’s work tomorrow. See you Shizuo.”

Shaking myself from my brooding thoughts, I raise my free hand in farewell. “Later Tom-san.” As my boss grimaces and ducks out into the rain, the light in my eyes dulls once again. Alone, this shit is always so much worse. Nothing to break up the underlying anger running through my blood.

For the past year, I’ve been slogging through one day after another, never able to find a break in the fog. Twitch, angry, unable to focus, unable to sleep. It’s like withdrawal, but so much worse. The headaches never go away and the craving never fades. It’s why I’ve been smoking more than I used to. Every cigarette is another attempt to crush the regret and need that eats at me.

It’s not working, obviously. If Tom has noticed, I must be losing it completely. But then, I knew that. I’m at the end of my rope.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t really matter, I can’t change anything. Izaya’s never coming back, I’ll never see that flea again. _Good, I hate him!_ No, no I don’t. I haven’t for a long time. Addicted is what I am, hooked on a high I should have gotten over years ago, even before he left.

Now I’m without a fix, without a way out.

Sighing, I step into the rain and start my long trek home. Instantly it covers me, a permeating mist that pisses me off, even though I can do nothing about it at all. The hole in my stomach grows and I grind my teeth around my cigarette.

It’s fucking stupid. This whole thing is just ridiculous. It’s my fault I’m in this position at all. I just got so sick of it, the memories and the addiction and the want. The confusion every time I got too close to Izaya. Every breath of smoke is a reminder of him. The roof, that one taste of what I can never have, the constant need for more.

But I tried to crush that desire, crush it as I almost killed Izaya for good, finally ridding myself of him. Well I certainly fucked that up, right? I didn’t kill him, I just drove him away. I hate him, but I wish he was still around.

It was so much easier when I was just chasing after him, trying to get him to leave me alone because it made the addiction worse. It made my temper flair and my skin itch. If hate had been all it was, this would have all been so much simpler.

But it isn’t, and now I’m paying the consequences. Sucking on my cigarette, hoping the rain doesn’t put it out, I force my mind to go blank, just focusing on the street and nothing else. It runs with water, the fog making it swim. It’s like walking through a fucking cloud and I hate it, but I can’t find it in me to care.

One foot in front of the other. _Forget the past, pray the future won’t be so shitty._

Out here, there’s hardly anyone walking about. It’s too miserable, it’s too wet. I haven’t seen a single person yet but it’s weird, I still feel someone’s eyes on me. The familiar prickle is irritating, strange. Puffing out a stream of smoke I ignore the feeling. It’s Tokyo, someone’s always watching, someone always knows.

But this feels different, a forgotten pulse at the base of my neck, the tick of an eyebrow, a presence, too close to me for comfort. Then I hear the shifting of feet over wet pavement, so familiar, so foreign. Stopping, I turn slowly, needing to know.

His eyes haven’t changed. Not really. They’ve faded, dulled somewhat, but they’re the same crimson splash in the shadowy dark that I remember. His clothing is soaked, his coat hangs off of him like a dead weight. Whatever damage I’d done to him last time we’d clashed has faded, his posture is straight, his chin, held high. Despite all of this, he looks like a shell, like he’s hollow.

Taking a breath, I catch that familiar musk I haven’t smelled in a year and somehow, the throbbing headache at my temple just dies. Vanishes like it never existed in the first place.

Izaya’s mouth suddenly twitches, dragging upwards in the ghost of a familiar snide smile.”Shizu-chan,” he purrs, stirring something within me. “Funny seeing you here.”

It’s not funny though, my brain is still struggling to catch up with my reality. The face of my old enemy doesn’t infuriate me like it used to, doesn’t get under my skin. Part of me wants to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he’s real. The rest of me wonders what I did to deserve this shit. Him, here, after everything. What do I even say?

Softly, wondering if he’s going to bolt if I move too quickly, I murmur, “Izaya.” The word hangs between us. He doesn’t vanish, he just watches me, empty red eyes searching me for something that I can’t begin to guess. Wanting to know, needing to really, I ask, “What are you doing in Ikebukuro?” The taste of my cigarette mingles with what bit of Izaya’s scent hasn’t been smothered by the rain and I can feel those cravings start to dissipate.

Izaya sneers, narrowing his eyes cruelly even though it doesn’t quite agree with his body language. “Maybe I’m here because I want to be Shizu-chan.” The words are so familiar, taunting, baiting, course and cutting. It would be just like last year, except his expression is frozen, I know it means shit. Maybe that’s why the familiar anger doesn’t rise to the surface, maybe that’s why all I can do is fucking stare at him.

But I can see he’s ready to move, ready to run if need be. Even now, maybe especially now, he’s prepared to run from me. Do I scare him now, or is he just trying to piss me off?

“I thought you were never coming back.” The words slip out before I can stop them, I’ve always been shit at controlling my mouth. Izaya’s smirk fades for a moment as if I’m confusing him. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never talked to him like this, without the rage, without the tension. After all this time, the stress the very mention of his name makes me feel, this tastes of peace and I’ve been craving it for so long, it’s intoxicating.

Just like he’s always been.

“What a shame then that I came to ruin your wonderful life without me,” Izaya says with an overdone frown, almost mocking me. I can’t tell what his endgame is, he’s not making any sense. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your year of peace.”

_Is that what you think this last year has been?_ “Flea,” I mutter, wanting to say it, unsure how to. Finally, that familiar rage is bubbling up but it isn’t directed at Izaya, it’s all at myself. Because even face to face with the man I’m supposed to hate, the one I almost killed not a year before, I don’t want to kill him. I just want my fix, I want the cravings to stop.

I expect him to run, I don’t expect him to smirk bitterly before reaching up and snatching my forgotten cigarette from between my lips. Fixing me with a dark look, Izaya lifts the stick to his mouth, gently wrapping his lips around the end in a way that takes me back to that day in highschool. Taunting eyes and a dangerous smirk. Spicy lips and hot, wet breath.

I’m not even sure how to react as he takes a drag and releases it in my direction. It smells like nicotine, it tastes like him.

“Addicting as ever,” he says softly, a certain sadness overtaking his eyes that doesn’t agree with the grin on his face. “Ne, Shizu-chan?” Flicking the remainder of my cigarette away, the Raven turns tail and runs.

Instantly, I’m caving.

Instinctually I tear after him, running through the foggy rain, not a thought in my head. I get it now, I understand what he was trying to do. He wants me to chase him, he wants this, needs it as much as I do, I think. The emptiness I’d sensed from him is still in the air, tainting this fight. It’s unlike what we’re used to, no rage, no malice. Just a chase, just the sounds of our feet pounding against the wet pavement.

The rain gets in my face, the fog makes it almost impossible to see but I follow Izaya regardless. Neither of us says a word, there’s nothing left to say. I’m not even sure why I’m chasing him. I don’t want to kill him, I don’t even want to hurt him. Compared to our usual fights, there’s not a bit of damage. I just want to catch him, I’m fucking sick of this constant state of withdrawal. Izaya’s the one source of relief, and if he wants me to chase him, I won’t say no.

My legs twinge, I haven’t done this in a long time. No point with Izaya gone. He’s always been an addiction, always pushed me over the edge. Is this any different? Am I going to end up killing him at last? For the first time in a long time, my mind is absolutely clear.

No, I’m not going to kill him, but I probably should. He deserves it, and I’m not sure what other relationship we have. It’s all unhealthy, it’s been festering since we met and it’s only now surfacing.

Izaya doesn’t move as smoothly as he used to. I wonder if it’s because of what I did to him last year, or if it’s the fault of something else entirely. Even his movements ring hollow, bitter and tired. There’s something disturbingly final about the way he darts through the streets ahead of me, like this single moment has his entire focus, like there aren’t any more plans, any more schemes.

It doesn’t sit right, but at some level, I understand the man. This is it, this is the deciding factor that will determine our future. Both of us know it, and both of us are racing towards the finish line. I can tell because Izaya isn’t trying to escape, he’s just trying to get me to follow.

_He’s crazy, we’re both fucking insane._ But aren’t all addicts the same?

We’re all just looking for our fix.

I’m sick of that fix being Izaya. His biting words and cruel smile. I want to be free of him but something tells me that killing him won’t help. It’ll only make it worse. Izaya’s the only solution, the constant thorn in my side. The thing I can’t help but crave.

The cure.

Izaya speeds up abruptly, distracting me from my thoughts. Easily I push myself harder until I’m matching his pace. I can see his coat through the rain now, rippling even though it’s soaked through with the water that covers us both. Maybe he’s losing momentum.

Maybe we’re just reaching the end of this chase.

Suddenly, he darts into an alley. Forcing myself to slow down so I don’t slip on the wet pavement, I follow. Izaya’s already disappeared again but I can smell him in the air, still see the traces of his running footsteps. Quickening my pounding steps, I track him, undaunted.

Izaya’s never scared me, he’s only ever annoyed me and right now, he isn’t even doing that.

His path is twisting, I have to wonder if he’s even thinking about where he’s going. The only commonality is how the air gets dryer the deeper we go, the rain slowly becoming closed off by the leaning buildings above us. All that’s left is an odd mist, still obscuring my vision, warming me after the chill of the rain above.

Then the noise cuts out as Izaya’s distant footsteps stop suddenly. _This is it,_ I think, slowing down as I near the place where the man lies in wait. _Whatever happens next, it’s over._ The thought is a relief, a blanket that smothers the buzzing at the back of my throat.

I don’t have to slowly go crazy, I’ve got Izaya.

For an enemy, his presence is a heavy comfort.

As I turn one last time, I finally find him. He’s leaning against the wall, eyes shadowed yet so fucking bright. For the first time this evening, there’s life in him, a return of the old Izaya that I’ve been wanting to see again so fucking much. I don’t bother advancing on him, why bother, this is it.

But there’s something about the way he’s standing that makes my stomach twist. Defeated, open. Waiting for me. Waiting for an end. Except it’s not the end I expected him to want, he’s waiting for me like he wants me to kill him. Like some twisted form of assisted suicide that makes me feel sick.

Needing a cigarette, just as a distraction rather than a fix, I dig around in my damp pocket. The carton is wet, which is mildly discouraging but I draw one out nevertheless. With unhurried movements, I pull out my lighter as I fit the stick between my lips. It takes a few seconds longer than usual for the cigarette to actually light. The paper’s still wet, but eventually, the small flame dries it enough for it to flare up, glowing bright red before softening to a smoldering hue.

Taking a drag, I wonder what I’m supposed to do and if I can change the path Izaya seems determined to follow.

There’s a light chuckle from the end of the alley, bitter yet no longer so empty. If anything, it sounds desperate. Pleading. Thin hands move up to bring down his sodden hood. “It’s been a while, ne Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, his voice so calm like he doesn’t care about a fucking thing.

_Why does it have to be him?_ Removing the cigarette from my mouth, I laugh softly, letting the smoke spill from my lungs. “Yeah, it has been a while Izaya.” Slowly, I walk forward, watching him carefully, sadly almost. _I need you Izaya, I wish I could just hate you._ My brows crease as I add in a troubled voice, “This is where I’m supposed to kill you, isn’t it?” I wonder if he can hear the rueful note in my voice. _I don’t hate you though, I’m addicted, you got me addicted to you._

It was never the fucking cigarettes, it was only ever Izaya.

Izaya’s gaze is regretful, I’m not imagining it at all. He doesn’t want to die, he’s just tired. Tired of being empty I guess, tired of being addicted with no hope of getting better. “Yes,” he whispers, regardless. “I suppose it is.”

Nodding, I gradually draw closer. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t draw a weapon. He just waits for me. Funny how a year ago, this would have been the best thing imaginable, just him sitting still while I killed him. Now, it makes me wonder if I really have a single goddamned idea what I’m doing.

I can smell him, his personal scent tainting the air like blood, like wretched agony. Didn’t I use to claim he smelled like shit? Hah, that would be preferable. This is intoxicating, addicting, _soothing, coaxing._ Fucking annoying. It mixes with the cigarette smoke between us, thickening the foggy air that much more.

Flatly, I ask, “Did you do this on purpose?” Well, I never did mince my words, did I? Shit like that wastes time, makes me feel like I’m acting like Izaya. “Were you even thinking?” There’s not enough distance between us, there never is. It’s always just close enough to make me crave it. Make me want to get rid of it.

Izaya’s face crumples in confusion. “What?” I don’t move any closer, I just stand there, only a few meters away. Frustrated, he spits, “Of course I did this on purpose Shizu-chan, did you think I’d really let you catch me if I didn’t want you to?” Well, that answers one question, he’s planning on me killing him.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Closer. I’m reminded of the roof, the heady, smoky air. All that curiosity, all that simmering hatred. Everything that brought us here, to this point. Kind of like fate, but more of a bastard.

The man can’t meet my eyes. “I was bored Shizu-chan, I’m always bored.” He does remember, I can see it on his face. “It was a game, you’re a game. I’m letting you win so just end it already. I’m tired of this.” Now I can pick up on the distress, the way his fists clenched by his sides. _We’re both so fucked up, it’s not even funny._

“What are you tired of?” There’s only inches between us, one of my hands splays out over rough brick, the other takes the cigarette out of my mouth. That buzzing is back, intense, angry. Izaya still won’t look up at me. “Tell me Izaya,” I say, my voice coming out like a growl. “Fucking _tell me.”_

“I’m tired of feeling empty,” Izaya says softly, looking up all at once. His crimson eyes swirl with a million emotions, intense, full of life. Reflecting the smoke obscuring the air back at me. “So do it, kill me.”

The hand above his head falls and tangles in his wet hair. “No.”

He tastes just like I remember. Hot, spicy, bitter, dark. Bloody almost, fearless maybe. Desperate, always so fucking desperate. The world falls silent in that moment, all the shit I’ve been dealing with for a year, since I met him even, drains away. It’s just the feeling of his mouth moving gently against mine and the shallow breaths that ghost past the skin of my cheek.

I’ve known the solution for a year now. The solution is him.

Drawing back, the tears in his eyes catch me off guard. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them, with him really. Yet I find myself awkwardly rubbing at them, dragging them across his already damp face. “Thank you,” he whispers, unexpectedly. Faintly I can sense his fingers clutching at my vest. “Thank you Shizu-chan.”

It’s strange. Alone, in this warm, misty dead-end, we’re not putting on a show, we’re not even ourselves really. We’re just the broken piece of what we used to be, addicts struggling to put ourselves back together.

“It’s raining out,” I mutter, even though that’s obvious already. “You’re soaked.” _And shivering, and cold, and your lips are blue._ Izaya doesn’t even roll his eyes, which shows how far gone he really is. Making a decision that I’ll probably regret later, I tug at one of the hands still fisted in my clothing. “Come on, my place is closer.”

Izaya’s eyes flicker, and I have no idea what he’s thinking when he murmurs back, “Fine.”

The rain picks up as we work our way out of the alleys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will unfortunately not be out tomorrow, I'm going to Canadia so it'll be out in two days instead (unless I finish it today and get it posted at the ungodly hour of 4 a.m.)
> 
> But we'll see.

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost happy...


End file.
